Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I own nothing.

"Up on your right!" Xander said, swerving the car sharply on Spring Street to give Dawn a better angle. He turned wide and almost crashed into a stoplight in the process as the earth gave a low rumble.

"Got it!" Dawn replied and fired, hitting her mark. "Did you see that? Right through his head. Woosh!"

Xander grinned and appraised the damage to the minivan. Thank God it was minimal, one big dent on the side and scrapes all around, but no harm to the engine or any other essential parts. The weapons that had sat in the unzipped duffel bags of the back seat had scattered with every turn he made, trying to out drive the biggest demons and search for Angel's team in the rain.

So far, there was no luck.

"We've been circling Wolfram and Hart for at least an hour," Dawn said, reloading the crossbow. "Maybe we should look somewhere else."

"Buffy said this was the place to be," Xander replied, scanning the shadows. "They've got to be close by."

He kept on driving as Dawn shot down another demon. The remnants of Hell's army lingering beneath the high rises seemed almost wary of the minivan and kept themselves at a safe distance. The fear in their eyes when the headlights roamed over them had Xander hinging on hysteria. Who knew that the stuff of nightmares was afraid of a little domestic manufacturing?

"I don't know, Xan, I mean there's hardly any demons around the building anymore," Dawn observed.

It was true. They weren't retreating. Rather, they were nowhere to be found, fading out into the rain. What does that mean? We won? Xander thought. Somehow he knew it couldn't be that simple as another quake rocked the van on its wheels.

"Well, we should probably find Buffy or Willow, maybe pick up some injured slayers," Dawn said and fired again. She let out a small, triumphant, "Yes!" when the stray demon fell.

"You're probably right, maybe we should—Angel!"

"What?"

"He's all big and has that sulky scowl thing going on," Xander said, pointing across the street at the broad figure, walking with a slight limp, his clothing scorched. "Yep, that's defiantly him."

Xander saw Angel's eyes widen with confusion as he pulled up beside him, driving slowly to match the vampire's pace. He rolled down the window.

"Hey, man, long time no see," Xander said, leaning back casually in his seat just to see the look on the vampire's face. It was worth it.

"Xander?" Angel asked. "Dawn?"

He could not have looked more shocked.

"Hi," Dawn said, not looking up from her crossbow.

"What the hell are you two doing here? Do you want to get yourselves killed?" Angel asked, a note of anger creeping into his voice.

"Whoa there. I believe we are in the safety of the toughest minivan money can rent and you're the one in serious danger. I mean really, wandering all majestic through the rain during an apocalypse? Not smart," Xander said.

Angel's mouth dropped open. He recovered and asked, "Does Buffy know you're here?"

"Know? She set this whole thing up," Xander said.

"What?" Angel asked, aghast.

"Yeah, its like slayerpalooza out there and Willow's working some crazy demon killing mojo," Xander said. "You didn't see them?"

"No, I've been a bit preoccupied, as you can imagine," Angel said, pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration. "The earthquakes are getting worse and the demons are—"

"Disappearing, like 'poof'?" Dawn prompted.

"Yes," Angel replied. "Two members of my team have already been killed tonight. I've been trying to find Illyria and Sp—someone else, but no luck."

"Oh, we know all about that," Dawn said simply. "Spike's back from the dead."

"Is there anything you don't know?" Angel asked. "Wait, let me guess. Buffy told you."

"Something like that," Dawn replied, narrowing her eyes at Angel.

The ground shook with the force of another earthquake, making the minivan creak and jangle while Angel struggled to keep his footing.

"Really?" Dawn whined as an arrow whizzed through the air, missing the small demon she was aiming for by at least a foot. "Stupid earthquake, made me miss him."

"This may seem a little out of the blue here, but do you want a ride?" Xander asked.

Angel stared at him for a moment in disbelief.

"Sure," Angel replied, shaking his head. Xander cracked a smile as he heard him mutter, "I'm having a very strange day."

Buffy. Here. Spike's thoughts were a jumbled mess. Said my name. His shock was so great that he couldn't even think a coherent sentence, let alone say one aloud. He could only stare at her. She looked a little leaner, a little tougher, and her hair had grown out a bit. Or at least, it seemed as if it had, stuck to her wet shoulders, the ends curling slightly in the rain. Gorgeous. Bloody beautiful. Slayer.

Spike told his legs to move, but he couldn't find the strength or the will to get them working. His eyes were locked on hers. She was a vision. Literally, she had to be. Spike was sure. The only alternative was that she was there for Angel, there to save Angel, because she loved Angel. He would rather take a hallucination than face that stark reality. Then why is she looking at me like that? A demon ran behind him—Spike could hear its clunking, thundering footsteps—but he didn't move and the demon did not even pause as it raised its axe. She shouted his name. Buffy was already running, but not before the weapon made contact with his shoulder.

He had been aware enough to dodge most of the blow, but it still struck hard. Spike fell. Buffy seemed barely aware of her actions as she sprinted forward, almost slipping in the rain. She raised the scythe and brought it down swiftly through the demon's thick neck, slicing cord and tendon. The body dropped, dead weight, as its head rolled away.

"Spike," Buffy said, dropping to her knees beside him and gingerly touching the wound. Her hand stained red when she pulled it back.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, touching his face and pulling his head into her lap.

"Buffy? Am I—I'm dust, aren't I?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. He glanced up at her face, so very real and glistening with droplets of rain. "Well what do you know? I guess they sent me to the good place after all."

Buffy shook her head, eyes welling over. "No, you're not dead."

Somehow Spike could tell she was speaking to herself, not him. He could feel the steady flow of his blood trickling down his shoulder, the sharp pain accompanying the wound, and he could hear the steady beat of her heart. He was still in Los Angeles.

"Not at the moment, no," he replied, dazed. The sight of what looked to be a Fyarl demon being cut down by a slayer's sword at the mouth of the alley brought him back to the reality of where they were. "What are you doing here?"

God, her eyes. He'd forgotten how intense they were when she was on the verge of tears and holding them in. She cradled his head on her arm and reached out a trembling hand to touch his cheek, his lips. He could not stop staring at her.

"It's you," she whispered. "It's really—," Buffy paused, finding her voice and quirking an eyebrow, "it is really you, isn't it?"

Spike grinned at the joke in her tone and the abrupt end to her tearfulness. "Yeah, it's me. In the flesh."

"I just wanted to hear you say it," she said and her eyes glazed over again. Her hands trailed over his face, ruffling through his wet hair.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, love, but…" Spike looked to the battle waging just outside of the alley. The two girls who had arrived with her were now fighting viciously, teaming up against a twelve-foot monstrosity. He couldn't see any other demons, although he was sure there had been more.

"Doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head.

"But, Buffy—"

She quieted him with a finger to his lips. Buffy rested her hand on his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. "Oh God, I never thought I'd see you again."

Spike reached up to touch her cheek, unconsciously mirroring the movements of her hand. "Don't cry."

Buffy smiled and turned her head to kiss his fingers. The feeling of her lips on his skin sent small shock waves rippling through his body. "I'm happy. This is happy crying."

Oh God, she's real.

"Buffy," he whispered, catching her fingers in his.

Spike was so dazed by her presence in the midst of the chaos that surrounded them he could barely think. He sighed and began pushing himself up.

"Get down!" Buffy yelled, flattening him to the ground as a demon's spear whizzed past where his head had been a moment before.

One of her slayers caught it. "Buffy, we have to go!" the girl yelled as the ground shook once more.

Spike groaned as Buffy's weight pressed on his shoulder. The wound was bad, but it wouldn't kill him. He needed blood and some time to heal, then he would jump back into the fray, fangs bared, fists flying. But Spike had not prepared to recuperate. He'd thought it would be a suicide mission. He didn't have blood stocked away anywhere, or bandages, or a place to rest. This was going to be his final battle. The one from which he never came back.

"Hey," Buffy whispered, arms braced on either side of his head.

"Hey," Spike replied, his brow knotting. His treacherous hands slid down her waist and settled on her hips despite his better efforts. Her shirt rode high and he found himself touching warm bare skin. He traced the sharp jut of her hipbone with his thumb and felt her pulse quicken, heard her sharp breath. "What are you doing here, Buffy?"

"What do you think?" she replied, her eyes sparkling.

He sighed, she was completely distracted from the world around them. It would get her killed.

"Buffy, we've got to get out of here," he said, trying to sit up. "There were more of them, just that way. We'll be trampled into bits, love."

Buffy stood and held out her hand. Spike grasped it and grimaced in pain as she pulled him up.

"Easy," she said, slinging his arm around her shoulder so that she supported his weight.

He glanced at the hand steadying his chest. The flesh of her palm was puckered slightly and shiny with scar tissue. Spike reached out to catch it. Buffy curled her fingers through his and squeezed.

"Look out!" a slayer yelled, downing the enormous demon in a single stroke of her sword. She threw her arms up and shouted at Buffy. "You're welcome! God Buffy, pick up the scythe, drop the vamp, and help us out."

With that the girl ran, screaming a battle cry. Buffy rolled her eyes and released Spike momentarily to retrieve the fallen scythe.

"Well one thing's for sure, their attitudes still need improving," Spike said, knees buckling a bit as they limped out of the alley. God, that axe had hurt. "Bossy bints."

Buffy laughed and kissed his temple, her lips lingering. He paused to glance at her.

"Don't look at me like that," Buffy said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, you seem…" she struggled for the right word. Buffy stopped at the mouth of the alley, to lean him up against the wall, trapping his body with hers. "I want you to listen to me."

Spike looked to the sky and back before meeting her eyes. He swallowed, preparing himself for her anger, maybe her fists if she felt like reliving the old days. "Yeah, okay."

Buffy held his face in her hands, her forehead bowed to his. "I am not going anywhere."

Spike closed his eyes, his hands settled on her waist, one splayed across the small of her back. She was close, warmth radiating from her body, making him feel almost alive in the chill of the rain. Before he could stop himself, he angled his face to kiss her, brief and sweet. Her lips were warm and soft and achingly familiar against his, coaxing him to respond. He was trembling and he cursed himself for it, but he couldn't overcome his shock. Buffy smiled against him.

"This is usually the part where I wake up," she mused so softly that Spike was unsure if she had wanted him to hear. She looked up at him and said, "I want to stay here forever."

"Covered in demon blood in the pouring rain?" he asked. "And, hate to break it to you, lamb, but forever's Angel's word. Never much liked it myself."

"Bring me back to earth, why don't you?" she said, lower lip pouted. "And for your information, it was my word first. Angel's the…word stealing guy."

A clap of thunder made them both jump. The ground began to shake, the worst tremor yet. Without a moment's hesitation, Spike grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her from the alley as the windows in the building above shattered, raining down shards of glass. They barely made it out into the street as the tremors increased.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked, her voice loud over the howl of the wind.

"Another alley, not that far from here. It's a meeting place," Spike shouted back to her as thunder roared.

Her hand was slippery in his, slick with rainwater, but Spike fought to keep his grip. Sure, she was caught up in the glow of seeing her former—whatever we were—again, but pretty soon that glow was going to go out. She was going to be angry. Spike wanted to savor it while he could. More than that, he didn't want to lose her in this storm. Whether he died or not was inconsequential. Whatever happened between them, no matter how much she ended up hating him, he would get her out alive.

Something was wrong. Willow could feel it. The wrongness went deeper than the freak storm and earthquakes, and big terrifying demon armies. It was something else. Something that was breaking into the sacred bounds of nature. Something insidious. Willow's fingers itched at her side to just reach for her phone and call Giles to tell him her suspicions. She fought against the urge to do just that and instead focused on the harsh reality that surrounded her. Theories could wait.

"Where did all the demons go?" a slayer asked from behind her, her eyes darting through the dense shadows beneath the skyscrapers.

"I don't know," Willow replied, her own eyes flickering toward any sign of movement. "But I think we can assume no where good."

Willow had gathered up the remaining slayers she could find from the Downtown area once the demons got it in their heads to avoid the bright, shiny girl with the built in zapper brain and began marching them through the deserted, streets. The healthiest ones carried the wounded. Twenty eight in total, several of them injured terribly, and stood at the base of Wolfram and Hart on Spring Street.

They had fought their way to the meeting place, and brutally too. Now the streets were quiet, empty. The earth still shook and the sky was still churning, but the demons were gone.

"It's like they all said abracadabra and went poof," Willow mused, "Although, that would never happen—"

"But where's Buffy, and Dawn and Xander?" another slayer asked.

Willow felt a twinge of worry in her chest. "I don't know."

Lightning struck hard into the street, fracturing the asphalt. There was something else at work here than just freaky weather. It feels like…but it can't be. That's not possible, Willow thought, trying to push those creepy feelings away to no avail. If what was worrying her was anything close to the truth, they needed to get out of Los Angeles and quick. Apocalypse be damned, Willow thought.

Headlights bathed them all in dull yellow light. Willow ran forward to the driver's side.

"Xander!"

"You okay, Will?" he asked, looking her over. "You aren't all magicked out are you?"

"I'm fine, how's Dawnie?" she asked, peering around him in the car.

"All in one piece," Dawn said with a smile.

"Good," Willow said, her shoulders relaxing in relief. "I was so worried that you weren't, in one piece I mean. My fears mounted up to multiple pieces and lots of them all over the place. What I mean is— I'm so glad you're okay."

"I know you are," Dawn said with a warm smile, "thanks."

"Hey Willow."

"Angel?" Willow gasped. "What are you doing here? Fred?"

The woman in the backseat cocked her head twice appraisingly. "You knew her," she stated in a calm, flat tone.

"Willow, this is Illyria," Angel explained softly. "Fred doesn't, um…"

"Then why does she look like…" Willow began. She focused on the creature in the backseat and concentrated on the small things. The carefully measured motions and the hint of curiosity in her gaze spoke volumes. Willow knew, unquestionably, that she had never met this woman in her life and felt a stab of realization. "Oh. I see…this is Fred's body but…"

Angel nodded gravely.

"Oh."

"We picked her up in Chinatown," Xander muttered to Willow. "Gotta say, she doesn't rate a ten on the normal scale. Actually, she doesn't really rate on the normal scale."

Illyria seemed to hear him, but simply stared on, sitting stiffly straight in the backseat.

"Where's Buffy?" Willow asked, craning her neck to see into the farthest reaches of the car. "Is she waiting in the back?"

"Willow, we don't know where she is," Xander said quietly.

The only sound surrounding them was the growl of the earth as it shook through another tremor. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm blared from an abandoned vehicle. A sliver of normality peering through the otherworldly mask that had settled on Los Angeles.

"Oh no," Willow whispered after a beat, shaking her head. "Oh God no."

"I'm sure she's all right, Will," Xander said.

"You can't know that," Willow interrupted. "She could be really hurt, she could be dying."

"Spike's missing too," Angel said, his voice low and perhaps a tint bitter.

"Angel," Willow said quietly, almost an apology. What do I say, 'Gee, sorry the love of your life wants someone else? How's that working out for you?' she thought and ventured a glance at him.

Her search of his face for a hint of jealousy, of passion, turned up empty. It struck her that his mind wasn't on Buffy. After all, he must have lost friends in the fight. He's all worn out, Willow thought, kinda like a big, sad lion. For the first time in her life she realized how old Angel was, not just in the sense of having had two hundred plus birthdays, but the kind of age that comes with real pain. When she looked into his eyes they were haunted. He had suffered.

"You want in, Will?" Xander asked, startling her from her thoughts. "Plenty of room in the Xandermobile."

"All aboard," Dawn said with a small laugh.

"No," Willow said, shaking her head. "No, some of the girls are hurt. I'm fine and all full of extra vigory energy. They should get the special van privileges."

"I'll walk," Angel said, sliding open the side door.

"I will too," the blue woman, Illyria, said. She followed Angel out and shot the van a bitter glance. "I detest this rattling machine."

Her voice was so grave, so serious, that Willow found herself trying not to laugh. She suppressed the urge and turned to the girls, trying to decide who was the most badly wounded. They could fit eight at the most in the back seat, although some of them would need to take the floor.

"Angel, would you help me?" Willow asked, closing her eyes to concentrate on the task ahead. The warm tingle of magic, the sweetest stuff in the world, flowed through her veins, drawing from the earth around them. Wrong, Willow's inner voice screamed out, something is wrong.

"Of course," he replied.

While Willow carefully levitated some of the more badly injured girls, Angel swept them up into his arms and carried them. The ground shook and trembled, the earth roared, and made rough work of the delicate task.

"It seems to me that most of the demons are gone," Willow said, buckling the last girl's seatbelt. "Now, we just need to find Buffy and Spike before—"

The sound of rapid footsteps approaching and a bright flash of lightning made Willow jump.

"Its Katie and Vi," Willow said and ran forward. "Are you guys all right? I thought I found everyone."

"We're fine," Katie said, breathing heavily. "But Buffy's gone."

"What?" Angel asked, stepping past Willow. "What happened to her?"

"You must be Angel," Vi said, tilting her head to stare at him. "He's quite tall, isn't he, Katie?"

Katie rolled her eyes. "Try to focus, Vi."

"Sorry."

"What do you mean Buffy's gone?" Dawn said from behind Willow, getting out of the car and running over, her shoes smacking on the wet sidewalk. "What happened, is she okay?"

"She's with that vampire. The one she was talking about in Long Beach," Katie explained.

"Spike," Vi added.

"Spike," Angel repeated. He rubbed a hand over his furrowed brow, considering the circumstances. "They might be stuck out there, but I'm sure she's all right. He may be a lot of things, but he cares about Buffy. He wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"Wouldn't he?" Xander asked from the van.

"Xander," Dawn said, her voice almost hurt.

"Look, I don't think he would put her in danger intentionally, and my bet's on Buffy if they fight, but since when is Spike the world's greatest thinker?" Xander explained.

Angel chuckled, earning a few disapproving glances. He cleared his throat and looked almost sheepish. "I, um, it was funny," he said apologetically.

"Well whether he is or not isn't really the point," Katie said and sucked a breath in through her teeth. "The quakes are getting worse, the demons are disappearing, and…there are these cracks in the ground."

"Okay we are finding my sister now," Dawn said, marching back to the van. "Start the engine, Xander."

"What I don't understand is why they aren't here yet," Willow mused. "I mean, isn't this the meeting place?"

"Damn it," Angel swore. "I was so caught up in—never mind. I know where they are."

"All right," Xander said excitedly and shifted the van into drive as Angel began walking, Illyria at his side. "Lead the way, broody."

Spike was trying his best to retrace his footsteps back to the alley behind the old hotel. Left, right, right, left. If he got her killed, he would never forgive himself. Lightning struck a nearby street lamp, splitting it down the middle and leaving a messy, twisted bunch of metal in its wake. Up ahead, Spike could see the hotel roof.

"It's just this way," he turned and told her. Buffy gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. She's really here, Spike thought.

They rounded the corner to the alleyway. It was empty. The lights of the city flickered once and went black. All of Los Angeles plunged into darkness. Spike made a small noise of frustration. Everything was dark, muted and blurred, lightning the only source of clear vision.

"Oh balls," Spike cursed. "Angel!" he yelled, "Illyria!"

"Where are they?" Buffy asked, reaching her free hand around him to grasp his arm.

"I don't know," Spike said. "They were supposed to be here by now."

He was beginning to feel the impact of the wound, overwhelming him with momentary dizziness. Though he could already feel his flesh knitting back together, the cut had been deep. How much blood was he losing?

"Hey, you okay?" Buffy asked when he swayed slightly.

"I'm fine," Spike replied, but reached out to touch the blood soaking through his t-shirt, coating his duster, and trickling down his skin. "I just need to…"

Bollocks

"Spike!" Buffy caught him before he fell, holding him up as the ground began to shake again.

"It's all right," he insisted, righting himself. "We've got to get to Angel and Illyria."

"No it isn't," she said softly, looking straight at him. God, does she? Does she really—?

"You're losing a lot of blood," Buffy said in concern, "If you keep going on like this, you could get seriously hurt."

"I'm not human. It won't kill me," Spike said, distracted and trying to reassure her. "Just a bit of discomfort's all."

"No, it will hurt you," Buffy replied, her expression stony. "I know there's no light, but we'll try to find Willow. She'll know what to do. Or maybe Dawn and Xander, they have a van. You can lie down in the back—"

"You brought Dawn here?" Spike blanched. "And you left her with Xander?"

"She wanted to come!"

"Oh, so that makes it all right then?" Spike asked.

"Like I couldn't have done anything! She's the mayor of Stubborn City," Buffy said defensively.

Crackles of lightning burst across the night sky as the ground shook violently. Spike's good arm wrapped instinctively around Buffy as he fell back against the loose brick wall of a building that were slowly coming apart. He pressed her face into his chest, stroking her hair as if it would make reality go away, as if he could make it all better. The harshest shakes of the tremor passed, but Spike could still feel the small aftershocks of it coursing beneath their feet.

"They're not coming," he said, defeated.

He pulled out of Buffy's arms and punched into the brick of the alley wall. Once, twice, as many times as it took to get his knuckles bleeding and it still wasn't enough. He'd failed her. They were stranded in an abandoned, darkened city in the middle of The Apocalypse, the ground beneath them crumbling and cracking with the impact of the quakes. There wasn't anything he could do.

"Spike, stop it!" Buffy said, catching his arm mid swing. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Does it really matter?" he asked her. "Look around us, Buffy."

Spike saw her shake her head in the half-light. She swallowed and ventured a glance up at the churning sky, the violent bursts of lightning.

Spike caught her wrist and wound his fingers through hers.

"I'm going to get you out of this," Buffy said quietly. He could see the soft curve of her cheek as she spoke, even in the darkness. "You are not going to die here. Not again…"

Something in her voice touched him in ways that he had almost forgotten she could. There was nothing like it. "Buffy, I—"

A beacon of light burned through the darkness and bathed them in its glow. Spike flinched and raised his free hand to his eyes. A horrendous minivan, scraped and dented, creaked into the alley, bumping a dumpster in an extra wide turn.

Angel and Illyria ran forth from behind it, Willow at their tail, followed by what seemed like at least twenty girls, all in their teens. Slayers, Spike realized, she brought a whole mess of slayers.

"Spike," Angel said. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened? You were supposed to be here, you prat," Spike said. He stepped in front of Buffy unconsciously, as if trying to block her from Angel's view. I'm not jealous, no sir. No Buffy for Spike. She's not my girl. Then again, she's not his either…he told himself.

Spike was still holding her hand.

"I know," Angel said, a note of weariness in his voice. "I'm…I'm sorry, all right? I didn't know you two were stuck out here."

Spike leaned back to look at him. "You feeling okay up there? Cause while you're dishing out apologies, I've got a couple I'd like to hear."

"Don't push your luck, Spike," Angel said and turned, striding back toward the van. He paused to gain his footing as the ground, once again, shifted and roared.

The slayers stumbled during the quake. Several of them groaned as they fell against each other. Spike could smell their blood in the air, potent and thick and flowing.

"Angel," Buffy said, stepping forward. Spike bit his lip when her fingers slipped out of his. "Angel, we need a place to go. Somewhere close by, where we can get everyone some medical attention. We can't fight with this many down."

"I've got a place," Angel said, not even bothering to turn as he strode out of the alley. "Follow me."

Author's Note: Yes, Buffy and Spike will still have a lot of issues to work out, but I felt that they deserved a nice reunion. For those of you who had questions about what happened to Angel in chapter 6, to that I say, all in good time.

I just wanted to give a big thanks to highlander348, MoonPrincess623, suitablycontrary, a Guest, Gothic Saku-chan, ginar369, EllieInLove, and Secret Slayer for the reviews. An extra special thank you to redsatindoll. Thank you so much for taking the time to review each chapter and express your thoughts, I adored reading them. I did go back and revise, just slightly, on what occurred with Angel. It turns out there was something missing there, even if it were only a line or so. Thanks again to everyone who made this story a favorite or followed it. I truly appreciate it.